


Sorsha's Trial

by Cantatrice18



Category: Willow (1988)
Genre: Fantasy, Gen, Legal Drama
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-08
Updated: 2011-09-05
Packaged: 2017-10-22 09:30:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 10,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/236601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cantatrice18/pseuds/Cantatrice18
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The war is over, but now Sorsha is forced to face her past crimes. As Bavmorda's daughter, her loyalty to Elora Danan is in question, as is her role in the atrocities committed during Bavmorda's reign of terror.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The newly revitalized castle of Tir Asleen bustled with life and activity. The war had been won, but the task of putting a new government together still lay ahead. Madmartigan sighed as he looked at a stack of papers in front of him. The most pressing issue was Elora’s coronation. Though it was a given that she would be accepted as queen, the formalities and protocol still had to be attended to. The People’s Council, rendered ineffective under Bavmorda’s rule, had reconvened and were arriving for the ceremony that afternoon. From what Madmartigan had heard, the Council was made up of a bunch of crotchety old men, never satisfied unless they had something to complain about. He sighed again. He wasn’t cut out for this. His place was on the battlefield, not behind a desk affixing royal seals to documents he could barely read much less understand. He felt a light hand on his shoulder and the brush of long hair against his cheek. Sorsha had entered unnoticed and now wrapped her arms around him, kissing his cheek lightly. “What’s the matter, Madmartigan? Is the great warrior not up to the challenge of paperwork?”

Madmartigan shot her a glare. “I’m doing just fine, thank you. And where exactly have you been all morning?”

She released him and turned so that she was leaning on the desk. “I’ve been preparing for the Council’s arrival. Everything has to be perfect for them; they’re already liable to be ornery thanks to their long exile. You’d think they’d be happy now that my mother is gone, but reports from messengers indicate that they are just itching to make up for lost time. They’re a power hungry group – let’s hope they don’t present a challenge to Elora’s rule.”

She frowned, and Madmartigan realized how pale she was. He rose to his feet, taking her in his arms in a true embrace. “You worry too much. They would never challenge Elora’s legitimacy. The people would rise up against them. Right now you need to rest – it will do no good if you pass out from exhaustion before they arrive.” She nestled closer to him, her breath tickling his neck. He smiled. “Off to bed, then” he cried merrily, and he threw her over his shoulder as if kidnapping her.

She yelped in surprise, but then began to laugh. “Let me down, you fool, what if someone sees?”

“Who could see?” Madmartigan cried, but just then he heard a cough. A page stood by the door, looking down at his shoes. Madmartigan quickly dropped Sorsha, his face reddening. “Well, what is it?” he asked gruffly, trying to hide his embarrassment.

“My apologies, s-sir,” the page mumbled, going red himself. “It’s the Council…they’ve arrived.”

Sorsha had collected herself and now strode quickly over to the page, fists clenched. “They weren’t supposed to arrive until later this afternoon,” she said angrily.

“Yes, milady, but…they’re here. Maybe the weather was better that expected, or…”

He trailed off lamely as he realized that Sorsha wasn’t paying attention to him. She was staring into the distance, her expression calculating. Suddenly she turned to Madmartigan. “They’re trying to catch us off guard. We can’t let them. Go change into something presentable, we’ll meet them in the entrance hall in ten minutes.”

She left the room at a near run before Madmartigan could voice any protest. He stood for a moment more, then shrugged and headed for his rooms. The Council was an annoyance, but one that they were more than prepared for.

The Council was waiting in the entrance hall and, as expected, they were a group of aged, greying men, with none under sixty. There were twelve of them, one from each region of the kingdom. Madmartigan suppressed a smile as he saw the Nelwyn delegate, a good three feet shorter that the man he stood next to. The sight made him think of Willow, and he wondered what his young friend was doing now. His musings were interrupted by Sorsha’s entrance. He felt his breath catch. She looked ravishing, a long white dress clinging to her delicate frame. Her hair had been tied up and teased into a cascade of red curls, and tiny jewels gleamed at her earlobes. How she’d managed to get so dressed up in only ten minutes he’d never know. She held herself regally as she walked down the stairs, and the councilmen turned towards her. Most bowed, but a few did not. For some reason this disturbed Madmartigan. It was common courtesy to bow in the presence of a lady, especially one as beautiful as Sorsha. He shrugged away his uneasiness; perhaps other parts of the realm had different customs. Sorsha had begun to speak. “Welcome, Councilmembers. We have eagerly awaited your arrival. I trust your journey went well.” The councilmen murmured in assent. “I am glad of it,” Sorsha continued, “We are honored that you have come to witness the coronation of our new queen, Elora Danan.”

One of the councilmen stepped forward. He was a tall, thin man with a long beard stretching past his belt. He held himself with dignity equal to Sorsha’s own. “We too are pleased to be able to attend such a joyous event. The crowning of a new queen is always a momentous occasion, but to be able to see the ascension of the chosen one, Elora Danan, to the throne of our illustrious kingdom is an honor few of us ever expected to receive.”

Sorsha nodded politely at his words, and Madmartigan could see a small smile play across her lips. “Then I shall instruct the servants to lead you to your rooms. I hope that they are to your liking.”

She turned to go but another councilman had stepped forward. This man was shorter, balding with a goatee, and he was one of the men who had not bowed. “I do hope, Lady Sorsha, that we shall have the honor of your presence in meetings discussing Elora Danan’s future. There is a great deal that we wish to see occur in this kingdom that never happened under your mother’s rule.”

Madmartigan bristled at the man’s tone. Something about the way he said Sorsha’s name and the hint of sarcasm when he called her “lady” made Madmartigan want to slap the smile off the man’s face. Sorsha turned to face the group of men once more. “By all means. We have no intention of banning you from influencing the affairs of this kingdom. You represent the people’s voice.”

The man smiled wider. “Indeed. Shall we say tonight then? After the banquet, of course.”

Sorsha looked taken aback, but quickly recovered. “I see no reason why that would not be agreeable.” “Until tonight, then.” Sorsha nodded and left. Madmartigan followed, and as he went he saw the councilmen gather together into a huddle, talking rapidly.

The evening’s banquet was a grand affair, with ten courses and a wealth of delicasies from all over the realm. Normally Madmartigan would have gleefully dug into the food, but his attention was diverted by the presence of the Councilmen. The loudmouth Councilman kept staring at Sorsha, a strange look in his eyes. He was not alone: other Councilmen glanced sidelong at Sorsha, though none were so bold as to stare outright. Madmartigan felt a strange need to protect Sorsha, and he dearly wished she had not agreed to meet with the men that evening. As the final dishes were cleared away, Sorsha stood to address the Councilmembers. “My lords, I believe you have something you wish to discuss. By all means, let us begin. What concerns you this evening?”

The man with the goatee stood. By some coincidence of fate, he had ended up directly opposite the two of them, at the foot of the long table. “Our concerns are these. While we readily accept Elora Danan as our queen, we have grave doubts about the, ahem, suitability of her regents.”

Madmartigan stiffened, hand instinctively going to his sword. Sorsha had shown no sign of distress. “And by suitability, you mean?”

The man stared directly into her eyes. “I, for one, have no wish to see our impressionable young queen raised by a murderess.”

Madmartigan leapt to his feet, sword half drawn. A hand on his arm stopped him from doing anything rash. Sorsha had remained composed, and now gazed down the table, meeting the eyes of other Councilmen. “I see. Is this view universally held?”

Many of the Councilmen looked down, embarrassed. The Councilman with the long beard spoke up, his voice sad. “I am afraid, milady, that the majority of my colleagues have expressed such doubts. Until such time as the Council may decide otherwise, you are requested to abstain from any activities pertaining to the child’s education or to the ruling of this kingdom.”

Sorsha inhaled sharply, but refused to let her calm mask slip for even an instant. Only her hand, clenched around the stem of a wine glass, revealed her true feelings. “I dearly hope the Council will change its mind. However, I acquiesce, and will separate myself from the duties of a regent, provided Madmartigan is allowed to remain active in the rule of the kingdom.”

The Councilmen murmured, and the bald one pursed his lips. “Over my strong protestations, the Council has decided to permit him to remain a regent – for now. The Council has deemed that his service in the war overrides his past deeds as a thief and rogue.”

Sorsha slowly nodded. “I believe this Council to be essential in the ruling of this kingdom. Without the voice of the people, how can one hope to achieve prosperity? Therefore, I shall do as the Council demands.” She rose from her seat, staring calmly down the lines of Councilmen. “If that is all you wish to discuss, then–“

“One moment, Sorsha,” the bald Councilman interrupted, mouth curling into a sneer. “You might have noticed earlier that we named you as a murderer. Murderers, you know, may never walk free in a just society. Your crimes are both heinous and numerous. By order of the Council, you are under arrest, to stand trial as soon as possible.”

This time, Madmartigan truly did draw his sword. Sorsha grabbed his wrist and shot him a sharp look. Turning back to the Councilmen, she asked calmly, “May I make a request of the Council?” The men nodded, many still refusing to meet her eyes. “Might I be allowed two days in which to organize witnesses in my defense?” The Councilmen muttered their assent, and she straightened even higher, the candlelight gleaming off her hair and jewelry. She looked positively radiant. “One more, then?” The Councilmen looked at her warily. “Might I be allowed the dignity of remaining in my own custody?”

The bearded Councilman stood, looking at her kindly. “Milady, we have faith in your honor, and feel no need to chain you.”

The bald man looked as though he disagreed, but voiced no objection. Sorsha nodded regally. “Then upon my honor, I shall appear before you in two days time to stand trial.”


	2. Chapter 2

Madmartigan followed Sorsha down the long corridors to her rooms. She was silent, her face impassive, and when she reached her bedroom she entered and shut the door firmly behind her. Madmartigan stood outside for a moment, waiting for the inevitable. A feral yell echoed from inside the room, accompanied by the sound of breaking china. Madmartigan smiled: he knew Sorsha’s passivity had been a ruse. The woman was flying into a well-deserved rage, and he planned to stay well clear of her until she had exhausted herself. He retraced his steps down the hallway and headed for the highest tower. Raziel had taken up residence in the castle in order to watch over Elora, and now spent most of her time constructing archaic spells of protection for the baby. The baby, however, was not the only one in need of protection. Madmartigan was so wrapped up in his own dark thoughts that he almost ran into Raziel coming down the stairs. He stumbled back, but had barely regained his balance when Raziel grabbed him by the shirt, pulling him closer. She stared at him with her big round eyes, making him more and more uncomfortable, until finally she spoke. “They’re after her, aren’t they? I knew they would be, the fools.” She let go of him abruptly and strode off, calling back over her shoulder “Come on, there’s not a moment to lose!”

Madmartigan followed, shaking his head. He never knew quite what to make of Raziel, though this wasn’t too surprising considering that when he’d first met her she’d been a squirrel-like creature. The woman was batty and eccentric, but her magic had been crucial in order to defeat Bavmorda, and she had never shown any sign of unhappiness or distrust when Sorsha had come over to their side. She had even saved Sorsha’s life when Bavmorda tried to impale her. Raziel's help with Sorsha’s defense would make all the difference.

The enchantress didn’t hesitate when she reached Sorsha’s room, despite the continuing sounds of destruction. She thrust open the door and marched across the room to where Sorsha stood, sweaty and disheveled. She had to pick her way through the wreckage of several chairs and a large quantity of broken glass, but reached the woman’s side in time to pull a small vase from her hand. Sorsha glared up at her halfheartedly, panting from exertion. Raziel frowned sternly. “This type of behavior is childish, Sorsha.”

“Those bastards!” Sorsha yelled hoarsely, “Those simpleminded, senile old fools!”

Raziel sighed and took a step backwards. “Perhaps it would be better if we started at the beginning. What exactly happened this evening?”

Madmartigan pulled a chair over to Sorsha and helped her sit. She was shaking with exhaustion as well as rage, and seemed unable to find the words to describe the meeting they’d had with the Council. He stood behind her, massaging he shoulders and neck, and began to speak.

Raziel listened in silence as he told her about the Council’s decision to remove Sorsha as a regent. She nodded sadly once or twice, as though she’d expected something of the sort. When Madmartigan reached the part about Sorsha’s trial, however, Raziel’s eyes widened in shock. “That’s ridiculous! Sorsha was the reason we won this war – without her we’d never have found our way through Nockmar castle in time to save Elora. She’s a heroine, not a criminal!”

Sorsha, who had remained silent through Madmartigan’s speech, laughed roughly. “Not according to them, I’m not. My past crimes override any good I’ve done since. I am unfit to come near the princess I almost died saving.”

She spat on the ground next to her, then winced and put a hand to her head. Raziel looked away from them, brow furrowed, and the room was silent for some time. Finally, Raziel turned back to them, her gaze steely and determined. “This matter is delicate. We must plan carefully in order to override the council without seeming to defy their authority. We should –“

A knock interrupted her, and the three of them jumped and looked warily at the door. “Enter,” Raziel called, and the door slowly swung open to reveal the tall, bearded Councilor who had been the first to speak in the entrance hall.

He took a few steps into the room, and his eyes fell on Sorsha. “Milady, I apologize profusely that such a thing had to occur, and in your own home as well. This trial is unwarranted and demeaning to any woman of honor, much less someone who fought so nobly for our princess during the war. I tried my best to stop it, but…”

He looked at her sympathetically, and she raised her head to meet his gaze. “Thank you for your kind words, Councilman…?”

“Silvergate,” the man introduced himself, “Godfrey Silvergate. The man who spoke to you so brazenly this evening is Hagan Maceforth. He is the mastermind of this ‘trial’ nonsense. The rest of us on the council were considering a censure, perhaps at most removing your status as regent, but no one ever went so far as to consider criminal proceedings until Maceforth arrived. He worked himself and my fellow councilmen into a self-righteous frenzy, made them think that with this one trial they could right all the wrongs done under Bavmorda’s rule. It took all my skills to persuade them to give you a fair hearing, with witnesses for your defense. He had them so convinced of your guilt I think they would have locked you away then and there. They will be a hard set of judges to convince of anything, milady, but at least you will be given the chance to try.” S

orsha struggled to rise, Madmartigan helping her, and bowed her head respectfully. “I am deeply indebted to you, Councilman Silvergate.”

She made as if to continue speaking, but Silvergate shook his head. “I only wish that I could do more. I am trying my best to bring the Council to a more moderate stance, but I cannot compromise my own position. You understand, don’t you?”

Raziel stepped forward and nodded, and Silvergate looked relieved. “Then I will take my leave of you, milady. I wish you all the luck in the world.” He bowed then left, shutting the door quietly behind him.

Madmartigan snorted. “Not the bravest man, is he? Only willing to help if it doesn’t hurt his interests?”

Raziel, who had been staring off into space, snapped to attention and glared at Madmartigan. “That man has more courage than you realize. He’s putting himself in danger even by coming to see us. If the other Councilors think of him as some sort of ‘co-conspirator’ with us, then his words will have no value on this or any other issue. It might even endanger his life, if this Maceforth man has his way. He’s doing what he thinks is right, not what is safe or easy.”

Madmartigan looked down, embarrassed, and grumbled about what he’d like to do to the council if he got the chance. Raziel looked between him and Sorsha, making sure they were both listening. “Now, as I was saying, we’ll need witnesses. We want people who can testify to your character, people the Council will trust – “

“Willow” Sorsha said softly, and the other two looked at her. “We need Willow.”


	3. Chapter 3

Sorsha paced up and down the corridor. The Council had transformed the formal banquet hall into a courtroom, moving aside the colorful banners that had been set in place for the coronation in favor of somber, bare walls. The coronation itself had been delayed until the completion of the trial: by now the entire realm knew of Sorsha’s arrest, and servants were listening excitedly for news of the proceedings in order to act as unofficial messengers to the rest of the kingdom. Raziel and Madmartigan had put together a decent defense, but so far there had been no word from Willow. Sorsha only hoped that their defense would be enough.

The door opened and a guard ushered her into the room. Her eyes widened at the transformation that had taken place almost overnight. The long table had been moved to the far side of the room and now eleven of the Councilmembers were seated on one side of it, facing a single plain wooden chair. Two lines of chairs flanked either side of the long table, creating a horseshoe shape around the chamber. On one side a group of people was already seated, among them a castle guard and an archer she recognized from her hunting squad. On the other side sat Raziel and Madmartigan, looking uncomfortable. Sorsha walked to join them but a guard stopped her, instead motioning towards the chair at the center of the room. As she sat the conversation in the chamber quieted, and she found herself the center of attention. The sound of a throat clearing made her turn towards the door. Hagan Maceforth stood there, dressed in robes of a rich blue and with an unctuous smile on his lips. “My fellow Councilors,” he declaimed, more like an actor than anything else, “We have come together to determine the guilt of this woman, Sorsha, daughter of Bavmorda. In this trial I shall act as the people’s voice, bringing her crimes to light and, in order to maintain fairness and honesty, abstaining from my right to vote. It is up to you to decide what punishment she requires.”

He bowed and crossed to the far side of the room, joining the unfamiliar group of people. By now Sorsha knew that they must be his witnesses against her. A portly man had risen from the judges’ table and now faced her, looking grave. “Sorsha, by vote of the Council your trial will be conducted in the following manner. The prosecution shall bring witnesses of your crimes before us, after which you will have the opportunity to question the witnesses yourself. You shall then bring forth your own witnesses, and the prosecution will be free to question them. Our decision will be based on the evidence presented to us, and not on any previous bias or opinion.”

Sorsha grimaced inwardly. It seemed highly unlikely that the Council would be able to separate itself from its prejudices. This trial would be very hard to win.

Maceforth stepped forward, gesturing grandly. “My lords of the Council, I present to you my first witness: Gilford Lakson, castle guard.” The guard strode to the center of the room, facing towards the Council with his back to Sorsha. Maceforth bowed to him, and the guard began his tale.

“My lords, in my time serving at Nockmar castle I was inadvertently privy to many conversations between the queen and her advisors. On one occasion I witnessed the queen rebuke an advisor for questioning the loyalty of her daughter, Sorsha, saying ‘I trust her loyalty more than I trust yours.’” The guard spoke in a stilted, practiced manner, and Sorsha felt no doubt that he had been coached many times through his testimony. The man continued, “On another occasion, I heard the queen berate her daughter for being unable to find the baby, Elora Danan, despite great effort. At that time, Sorsha swore to bring the baby to her mother in order that the child be destroyed.”

The Council murmured, exchanging dark looks. Maceforth smiled complacently. “Thank you, guardsman Lakson. Does the defense have anything to ask of this witness?”

Lakson turned to Sorsha, and she could see a hint of fear in his eyes. She wondered whether he was afraid of her or of Maceforth: the guard looked like the type to be easily bullied. “Guardsman Lakson,” she said steadily, “for how many years did you serve in Nockmar castle?”

The man hesitated, before saying “Twelve, milady.”

Sorsha saw Maceforth frown when the guard addressed her as “milady”, and the sight pleased her. “And in all that time, guardsman, what did you do to subvert Bavmorda’s rule and help the cause of Elora Danan, our new queen?”

The guardsman stared at her, completely bewildered. “I – I don’t understand…”

She stared him straight in the eye. “I asked, guardsman, if you did anything in your long term of service to warrant you remaining as a guard for Elora Danan. Did you not willingly serve the old queen for those twelve years?” The guard gulped before nodding. “Then does that not make you an accomplice to Elora’s kidnap, if you knew of it and did nothing to stop it?”

“Councilmen, I object!” Maceforth cried. “She is impugning the character of the witness, accusing him of crimes he did not commit."

The portly man rose once more. “I am afraid, councilor Maceforth, that it is within her rights as defendant to question the witness as she may.”

Maceforth frowned resentfully. “Is that all, then?” Sorsha nodded calmly. “Good. Then we can proceed to my next witness.”

The guard hastily sat down, looking relieved. The archer rose and walked haughtily to the center of the room. Upon closer inspection, Sorsha recognized him as one of the men who had vied for promotion when her old lieutenant had been killed. He’d had a tendency to abuse his rank as it was, forcing the younger and weaker looking soldiers to fetch and carry things for him. Needless to say, he had not been the one promoted. Now he faced the Council, pointedly ignoring Sorsha’s presence, and at Maceforth’s nod began to speak.

“My name is Ampher Walingen. I was unfortunate enough to be placed under the command of the prisoner, Sorsha, during the search for Elora Danan. She was a stubborn and cruel taskmaster, ignoring the basic needs of her troops in desperate pursuit of the baby. She did not hesitate to send out death dogs, though they would have ripped the child to shreds, so anxious was she to see that the threat to her mother’s reign was eliminated.”

He shot a contemptuous look back at Sorsha as Maceforth stepped forward. “As you can see, Councilors, there is no doubt that the prisoner was the foremost authority during the search for Elora Danan, and that she did everything in her power to have our young queen killed, even to the point of setting dogs on an innocent child.”

The portly Councilor, who seemed to have become the head of the Council for the time being, stood once more and looked from Maceforth to Sorsha. “Is there anything you wish to say in your defense?”

Sorsha stood herself and stared pointedly at the back of the archer’s head until he was forced to turn around and face her. “Archer Walingen, as a member of my squadron, did you not also seek to kill Elora Danan?”

The man shook his head, hands outstretched innocently. “I sought to find the baby, as my queen commanded, but never to hurt a poor infant. Such a thing is far to awful for me to contemplate.”

Sorsha pursed her lips. The Archer’s feigned virtue was getting to her. “Are you a fool then, Master Walingen, that you believed the baby would be well taken care of when you brought her back to Nockmar castle? The people in the towns we passed through knew what Elora’s fate would be. Mere peasants spoke openly of it, yet this knowledge somehow managed to escape you?”

The archer was glaring at her, fists clenched as though longing to hit her. “I am no fool. Your murderous intent was known by all.”

“OUR intent, Archer Walingen. You were on the same mission. As I remember, you tried your hardest to find the baby before I did, in order to bolster your own rank and status.”

The archer took two steps towards her, his face twisted in fury. Before he could go further, Maceforth’s voice pierced the air. “Does the prisoner have any actual questions for the witness? This petty arguing is beneath us all.”

Sorsha shook her head. “I have no other questions for this man, Councilors.”

The head Councilman whispered rapidly to the men on either side of him. As one, the Council rose and looked at Sorsha. “We shall reconvene tomorrow, at which time you shall present witnesses in your own defense.”

The Council filed out and Sorsha could see Godfrey Silvergate glancing back at her worriedly. Madmartigan came up behind her and wrapped protective arms around her waist. She leaned against him, feeling her muscles slowly begin to relax and release tension. Raziel put a firm hand on her shoulder. “Well done, Sorsha. It’s going to be a long, hard fight, but you’ve made an excellent start.”


	4. Chapter 4

The meeting that night was brief. Raziel went over the testimony she had planned, and rehearsed the main points with Madmartigan. For the most part Sorsha stood by and watched, grateful to them for coming to her aid. They finished just after midnight and headed off to bed. Sorsha lay awake in her room, staring at the ceiling for what seemed like hours. False dawn was just beginning to show itself at the horizon when she gave up, throwing on some mismatched clothes and muttering darkly as she crept down the corridors to Madmartigan’s room. The man was fast asleep, and at first she was a bit miffed at how carefree he looked. As she got closer, though, she saw the thin lines creasing his forehead and the tight set of his jaw: Madmartigan’s rest was troubled too. She climbed into bed beside him, nestling up against his back while being careful not to wake him. Breathing in his scent, she fell asleep almost instantly.

She awoke when she heard a knock at the door. Dragging a sheet from under Madmartigan’s prone form, she wrapped herself up and went to answer it. Raziel was leaning against the doorway, looking flushed and out of breath. “Oh thank goodness, I thought you might have ended up here.”

Sorsha blushed as she looked down at her barely concealed body. If any of the servants saw her in Madmartigan’s room dressed like this, her good name would be ruined. Since the distinction of “lady” seemed to be the only title left for her, it was reckless to put her honor in jeopardy, even for a good night’s sleep. She pulled Raziel inside and quickly shut the door. “What’s wrong? Why were you looking for me?”

Raziel had one hand on her chest and was taking deep breaths. For a moment Sorsha was concerned – Raziel wasn’t a young woman, after all – but the enchantress straightened and peered around the room. “Where are your clothes, girl? Answer, quickly, we haven’t much time!”

“I don't have any clothes,” Sorsha responded, “only my nightdress. The rest are in my room.”

Raziel sighed, and Sorsha began to feel impatient. “What’s going on? It’s not like you to barge in like this.”

Raziel looked at her and Sorsha could see the anxiety in the woman’s eyes. “It’s the Council. They’ve decided to continue the trial this morning instead of this afternoon, so that they can proceed with sentencing tonight.”

Sorsha gasped and began hunting for her nightdress or anything else that would allow her to get back to her room decently. “This is all Maceforth’s doing,” Raziel continued, “he wants you to be late or not show up at all in order to make it look like you aren’t taking this trial seriously. Oh stop that, come here.” She motioned to Sorsha and the woman abandoned her search. With a flick of her wand and a few archaic words the sheet around Sorsha turned into a dress, simply cut yet elegant, with a cloth belt the same color as the sheet’s trim. “Hurry down to the courtroom and stall them, I’ll get Madmartigan and be down as soon as I can.”

As Raziel had suspected, the entire Council had assembled before Sorsha arrived. When she walked in all heads turned towards her, and she saw the relieved look on Silvergate’s face. Maceforth looked peeved. “Nice of you to join us this morning, Sorsha. You are, after all, the reason this trial is being held.”

Sorsha held back a sharp retort, instead addressing the Council as a whole. “My lords, I apologize for my late arrival. I was only just now informed that the time of the trial had been changed. I’m afraid some of my witnesses are still unaware of that change, and I hope that you may allow them a few extra minutes to arrive."

The head Councilman nodded, looking apologetic. “We understand that the change was made at the last minute. By all means, you may wait to start your defense until the witnesses arrive.”

“You won’t wait long,” came a call from the door. Raziel entered, propping up a dazed looking Madmartigan, and headed to her seat on Sorsha’s side of the room.

Sorsha turned back to the Council. ‘My witnesses appear to have arrived. I would like to call as my first witness the enchantress Raziel.”

Raziel’s testimony seemed to go over well. The Council gave appreciative murmurs as she recounted how, in the final battle against Bavmorda, Sorsha had led them through the maze-like corridors of Nockmar castle in order to reach the Queen. Personally, Sorsha thought Raziel exaggerated her bravery a bit, but the Council seemed receptive and that was what mattered. It was in cross-examination that the trouble began. Maceforth approached Raziel and began to pace in front of her, as though thinking deeply. When he stopped, a nasty smile had formed on his lips. “Tell me, enchantress, when was the first time you saw the prisoner?”

Raziel looked at him sharply. “We met in the tents of Airk’s army, the night before the battle began. I believe I said that earlier.”

“Ah, yes, that is where you first were formally introduced, but when did you first see her?”

Raziel frowned, thinking back. “After Willow ‘Uffgood rescued me from the island on which I was trapped, Sorsha and her soldiers captured us.”

“Trapped?” Maceforth asked, feigning shock, “You? A sorceress powerful enough to defeat Bavmorda, undone by a little water? Why on earth didn’t you just swim, if you didn’t have magic?”

Raziel glared at him. “Because I was transformed, that’s why.”

Maceforth smiled even wider. “Transformed? Into what, pray tell?”

“Into a squirrel” Raziel replied haughtily.

The chamber was silent: the Council looked at her in disbelief. Maceforth began pacing once more, slowly this time. “And for how long were you trapped on an island while in the guise of a squirrel?” There was a mocking gleam in his eye and he savored every word he spoke.

“Years,” Raziel replied, “How many I’m sure I do not know. When I was transformed I was a young woman, now age has claimed me. Only Bavmorda knew the exact amount of time that passed, for she was the one who transformed me.”

“I see,” Maceforth said, “Then it is fair to surmise that the majority of your life has been spent as an animal, using primal instincts to survive?”

Raziel looked taken aback by the question. “Why…I suppose so, yes.”

Maceforth looked triumphant. “Honorable Councilmembers, I move that this witness be removed from the record. It is obvious that, if what she says is true, her limited experience with humanity blinds her from being a fair judge of character and, if what she says is false, she has gone so senile as to believe herself an animal. Regardless, it is my opinion that her testimony does not belong in this courtroom."

The Councilors began to argue heatedly amongst each other until the head Councilman stood, banging his fist onto the table to silence his fellows. “All witnesses at this trial will say their piece. It is the decision of the individual Councilors whether or not to take a person’s testimony into account.”

He sat back down as Raziel returned to her seat, looking shaken. Sorsha felt helpless as she watched Madmartigan try to comfort the old woman. She snapped to attention when the head Councilman cleared his throat. “Are there other witnesses to hear?”

Sorsha stood and motioned for Madmartigan to come over. “Councilmen, I present my next witness, the warrior Madmartigan.”

She had been tempted to introduce him as “General Madmartigan”, but had decided against it at the last moment. He’d never officially been promoted after Airk’s death, though he was the only logical choice. Now he strode to the center of the room, facing the Council defiantly. “I can speak better than any man here about Sorsha’s loyalty and character. She fought by my side during the war, risked her life to save Elora Danan, even faced down the evil witch Bavmorda. Since the battle she has done nothing but help with Elora’s coronation preparations, even when everyone else was exhausted!” He paused uncertainly, but then shrugged and continued, “I know Sorsha has a past – so do we all. But she’s changed since then: she’s on our side now.”

He stopped, flushed from awkwardness and suppressed anger. Maceforth stepped forward. “By ‘our side’, don’t you mean your side?”

Madmartigan looked confused. Maceforth stepped closer. “By all accounts, the sign that Sorsha no longer fought for Bavmorda was when she kissed you in the midst of the battle of Tir Asleen.”

Madmartigan turned beet red. “I – It’s not, that is…”, but Maceforth cut him off. “Is it true that you love the prisoner, Sorsha?”

The entire room froze. Madmartigan looked as though he’d been hit over the head. “I…I…” He turned and looked at Sorsha. All awkwardness evaporated from him and he relaxed completely. “Yes,” he said, spinning back to face the Council. “Yes, I love Sorsha, and she loves me.”

The Councilors whispered to one another, and Sorsha could see Silvergate smiling. Maceforth’s voice rang out, silencing the room. “Would you say, then, that the prisoner’s change of heart was based on her attraction to you?” Madmartigan nodded warily. “Then is it not possible that, were she ever to become tired of you or angry at you, she could switch sides once more and become an enemy of the realm?”

Madmartigan looked panicked. “No, that’s not what I meant!”

Maceforth looked at the Council. “My lords, I have no further questions for this witness.”

The head councilman nodded. “Wait!” Madmartigan cried, “that isn’t right, it isn’t…”

Raziel tugged him back to the chairs, whispering rapidly into his ear until he calmed down. Sorsha looked at the row of empty chairs. Willow had not come. The trial was nearly through, and her defense rested solely on the word of Raziel and Madmartigan


	5. Chapter 5

The head councilor rose to speak. “At this time the council will deliberate and a verdict – “

“One moment, Councilman,” Maceforth said loudly. The Councilors turned to stare at him. “A final witness has come forward at the last minute, and his testimony needs to be considered.”

The room was suddenly filled with the buzz of conversations as the Councilors debated whether or not to allow another witness. Finally the head Councilman stood, speaking directly to Maceforth. “This circumstance is highly irregular. Normally we would never allow it, but due to the nature of this trial all witnesses must be taken into account before a verdict can be reached.”

Maceforth nodded and motioned towards the door. For one desperate moment Sorsha hoped that it might be Willow who entered, but instead a young villager, no more than twenty, walked steadily up to stand before the council. He did not glance at her, his eyes fixed on the judges before him. Only when he reached the exact center of the room did he stop and begin speaking.

“My name is Jorel Svenson. I come from a village in the north. It is a small village, mostly animal trappers and loggers. The temperature keeps most people away, and the village has nothing of great value – only people. Which is why we were surprised when we saw the approach of Nockmar soldiers. We had never done anything to incur the wrath of the queen: our taxes were paid on time and in full, even in the leaner years. When they arrived they demanded lodgings and food. We reluctantly welcomed them into our homes, unable to refuse. They feasted that night, devouring all our winter supplies and still demanding more. The next day they ordered every available man to help with the search for the baby Elora Danan. Most men obediently lined up to join the soldiers, but my father refused. My mother was sick, having caught a horrible cough the week before. She was feverish and needed a caretaker. My father figured that I would be of more use to the soldiers than an old man like him, and he tried to explain to the soldiers his reason for staying behind. They would not listen. Instead, an archer calmly loaded an arrow and shot my father where he stood. He died calling out to me, telling me to run and hide. Others tried to help him, but they too were shot down. Nine men died that day. The rest gave up and followed the soldiers, never to return. The women and children slowly left in the village, scattering to different corners of the realm, searching for friends, relatives, anywhere that they could stay to try and rebuild their lives. My village, the village I grew up in, the village I had hoped to raise my children in, no longer exists.” The man turned to look at Sorsha, his eyes steely and full of loathing. “The commander of those soldiers sits here before you. She allowed her men free rein, let them senselessly kill my friends and family. She as good as murdered my father with her own hands.”

The Council chamber was deadly quiet. Sorsha sat stunned, unable to think of anything to say. The worst part of the man’s testimony was that she barely remembered the incident he described. Such things had been commonplace: fear and violence had been used to keep the towns and villages in line. She couldn’t count the number of times she and her soldiers had used intimidation and displays of force to get what they wanted. The head councilman slowly stood and stared at her. “Is there anything you have to say in your defense?”

She couldn’t help it. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, so softly that only the villager standing in front of her could hear. She saw him stiffen slightly at the sound of her voice. The head Councilman repeated his question and Sorsha shook her head. There was no defense for her actions. She had committed an unspeakable crime that day, one of many such crimes throughout the course of her life. Whatever punishment the Council handed down, she deserved it.

The head Councilman was speaking once more. “By order of the Council, this trial is complete. We shall deliberate and return with our verdict.”

The Council filed out. None of them would meet her eyes; few even acknowledged her presence. She had no doubt what their verdict would be. She was not disappointed. In a mere half-hour the Council returned, their faces grave. The head Councilman stood a final time. “Sorsha, this Council finds you guilty of murder, as well as the attempted kidnap and murder of our new queen. Councilman Maceforth, what penalty would you recommend?”

Maceforth turned to look at Sorsha, his eyes vindictive and triumphant. “Death, Councilman.”

The Council erupted into argument. “Quiet, my lords, please!” the head Councilman implored, and the room slowly became still once more. “Councilor Maceforth, for what reason to you propose this extreme penalty?”

Maceforth once more assumed his guise as an actor. “My lords, consider: the prisoner has proven to be quite flexible in her loyalties, and at this moment her ties to our side revolve around a single man. Especially considering the ruling of this council, she is likely to become our enemy once more. She is a powerful warrior, as we all know, and as Bavmorda’s daughter she would be a rallying point for all the evil forces left in the realm. Who knows, she may in fact be a sorceress as well, just like her mother. We cannot risk that: for Elora Danan’s sake, we must remove this threat to the crown.” He shot a glare back at Sorsha. “This woman, by your own verdict, has committed crimes that any commoner would hang for. She is a traitor to our people and our queen. I recommend that she be eliminated in the way every traitor before her has been: by fire.”

A Councilman seated near the end of the table rose to his feet. “I agree. Let her burn for her crimes!”

Another rose as well, nodding his head in agreement. One by one councilors began to rise, until more than half stood staring at her. The head Councilman counted the remaining seated councilors. “By a vote of seven to four, the Council votes in favor of death by fire. The sentence will be carried out at dawn tomorrow. In order to prevent an escape attempt, the prisoner will be held in the dungeon. Guards!”

Two armed men stepped forward and shackled Sorsha’s wrists. Taking her by the arms, they practically dragged her to the door. She managed a glance back and saw Madmartigan looking after her frantically, Raziel holding him back. She only hoped he didn’t do anything rash: He needed to protect Elora in her place.


	6. Chapter 6

The courtroom quickly emptied of people: the servants rushed back to their duties (or more likely to spread the word of the trial’s outcome), the Councilors went to a private meeting of their own. Only Madmartigan and Raziel were left. Madmartigan had long since stopped struggling to follow Sorsha. Now he stood staring at door, Raziel’s restraining hand still around his arm. It had all happened so quickly. He’d thought for a moment there that they’d have a chance, the odds were in their favor, and then…it had all been snatched away. Raziel took his arm, gently this time, and led him to the door. He walked numbly out into the entrance hall, letting Raziel guide him, and so when she stopped suddenly he almost tripped and fell. “Willow!” she cried, and sure enough the Nelwyn was just giving his bags to a pageboy. “Oh, Willow, you came at last!”

“Well of course I came,” said Willow, smiling. “After all I went through to protect her, you don’t think I’d miss Elora’s coronation do you?”

Raziel and Madmartigan looked at each other, dismayed. “The – the coronation? Willow, didn’t the messenger manage to find you? Don’t you know what’s been going on?”

The Nelwyn shook his head. “Nothings reached me. The whole realm knows the coronation is tomorrow. Did you want me to be here earlier?”

Madmartigan snorted. “Well, it might have helped.”

Raziel elbowed him, frowning. Willow looked between the two of them, his cheeriness fading away. “Something’s happened. Is Elora alright? Why isn’t she with you? Is she with Sorsha?”

Raziel put a steady hand on his shoulder. “Rest, Willow. Clean yourself up. You’ve been journeying for a long while, you must be hungry. Meet us in my tower when you’re through, but don’t skimp on the meal: It’s going to be a long night.”

Willow's hands were balled into fists. “They didn’t! They couldn’t have been that stupid, that, that …”

Raziel nodded tiredly. “They were exactly that stupid. They did just what Maceforth said. Thanks to him, Sorsha is awaiting execution in the dungeon as we speak.”

Willow looked like he was about to explode. “Why? Why would this Maceforth fellow want to create such a terrible fuss? What’s in it for him?”

Raziel glanced back at Madmartigan. The man had been inert, staring blankly, for all of Raziel’s explanation of the court proceedings, but now at Willow’s question he jerked awake, eyes darting quickly between the two of them as though afraid he’d miss the answer. Raziel sighed. “Well, I’ve been looking into it a bit, and it appears that many generations back Maceforth was related to the royal family.”

Willow looked confused, so Raziel continued. “Which means, of course, that were Elora Danan no longer here and no other candidates for the throne remained he could conceivably be crowned king. Theoretically.”

Both men were staring at her with dawning horror. “That evil, that wicked–“ Willow spluttered,“- trying to unseat Elora from her rightful throne!”

Madmartigan was more blunt. “That bastard, getting Sorsha mixed up in all of this! He’s not waiting to be crowned; he’s decided to become a tyrant without any formality at all! And he dares accuse her of, of – “

He leapt to his feet, making a beeline for the door, but with a flick of her wand Raziel locked it. He tugged vainly at it for a moment, then glared at her. She met his gaze squarely. “Madmartigan, this is not the time. Maceforth expects a physical challenge from you, doing such a thing now would give him the perfect excuse to arrest you and place you on trial as well.”

“Not if I wring his neck first,” Madmartigan said, gesturing threateningly, but Raziel interrupted him. “That can be thought of tomorrow. Right now there are other concerns. Sorsha needs you - don’t leave her alone tonight.”

Madmartigan’s anger melted away, leaving him as lifeless as before. He turned to the door again, and this time Raziel let him pass. They could hear his steps echo slowly down the tower stairs, fading to silence. Raziel remained motionless for a minute longer, then smiled wanly. “He’ll take good care of her. And now he’s out of our hair. We have a lot work to do, and very little time to do it in.”


	7. Chapter 7

Sorsha stood in a corner of her cell, staring up at the tiny streams of moonlight able to filter in through the grate near the ceiling. She could hear the quiet sounds of insects begin to fill the night. The dungeon, such as it was, had never been rebuilt when Tir Asleen was restored. This room had most recently been used to store spare armaments and supplies. The place still smelled like musty straw, not like the scent of blood and despair that had always filled her mother’s dungeons. As a child she had been afraid to go in them, terrified of the screaming, of the tortured, mutilated bodies still just barely alive. Her mother had not abided such weakness. For one month, all of her lessons had taken place in a dungeon cell. She had learned to read and write surrounded by the agony of the dying and of those that only wished that they were dying. Her mother had drilled her nonstop until she could effectively banish her fear. Now, alone in a cell of her own, the fear came rushing back. Only looking through the grate gave her comfort: her mother had never allowed natural light or fresh air to her prisoners. She was not a prisoner of Nockmar castle, but of Tir Asleen. The first prisoner to be executed in Tir Asleen. She privately thanked the council for delaying Elora Danan’s coronation until after the trial. Officially, at least, her death would still take place under her mother’s rule. She chuckled dryly, but her breath caught at the sound of the door opening. She spun, body automatically assuming a fighter’s stance to ward off any attack, but relaxed when she saw Madmartigan enter. He embraced her so tightly she could barely breathe. Then, to her surprise, he began to pull her towards the door. The look on his face was one of concentration and steely resolve, and it confused her. “What are you doing?”, she asked, trying to pull free.

“I’m rescuing you, that’s what.”

He tried to keep walking but she broke free, backing away from him and from the door. “No. Madmartigan, you can’t. I’m condemned, I had my day in front of the Council and I lost.”

Madmartigan shook his head angrily. “The Council can go to hell for all I care. That trial was rigged – he must have had that villager waiting in the wings the whole time.”

He took another step towards Sorsha, motioning for her to come to him, but she backed away again, this time reaching the far wall. “Even if it was rigged, as you say, that does nothing to lessen my guilt. I committed that crime and many more besides. I deserve my punishment. I’m only glad that I got to correct some of my mistakes before I died.”

At her words Madmartigan abandoned his self-control and ran to her, lifting her into his arms and crushing her against him. “You can’t die, I won’t let you. I need you too much.”

She remained motionless until he loosened his grip, then rested her head against his chest. He was solid and warm. She leaned against him, closing her eyes, and suddenly felt the exhaustion of the day hit her. She longed to doze off but jerked herself awake; she would not waste her last moments with Madmartigan sleeping! There was nothing she could say to comfort him. She would not do anything to jeopardize the newfound peace in the realm. Her mother had terrorized the country, using torture, enslavement, and murder to get her way. Another dictatorship would be intolerable. She had to ensure that the people had a voice in the ruling of the realm, even if that voice was the council and even if they condemned her to die. She held on to Madmartigan, wishing desperately that she could stay in his arms forever. They stood like that for hours, ignoring the occasional footsteps of passers-by. Time went too quickly. Before they knew it they heard a jingle of keys and a pair of young guards entered, looking solemn. “It's time,” one of them said, “Come with us.”

They did not attempt to restrain her, instead taking both her arms and leading her out of the cell and up a long staircase. Madmartigan followed, glaring at the guards as if daring them to protest. Finally, they reached a door, and the guards stopped. One of them, the older one, turned to her and said quietly, “Prepare yourself.” She was surprised to see that he looked sad, almost embarrassed. The other guard pushed the door open and they walked out onto the castle green.


	8. Chapter 8

A hailstorm of noise hit her as she entered. A crowd had gathered during the night in order to watch her execution and now surrounded the guards, jostling them and uttering profane suggestions of what they would like to see done to her. Madmartigan moved closer to her, unable to draw his sword without injuring anyone. He knew she wouldn’t want him to defend her, but he was highly tempted to teach the mob a lesson they'd never forget. He realized he shouldn’t have been surprised: crowds of rowdy people were standard at executions. Peasants treated them like sporting events, bringing lunch and coming ahead of time to get a good view. He’d attended many an execution himself without a second thought. But he’d never known the person being killed. He’d never loved the person the crowd reviled.

The guards had reached the large platform that was set up in the middle of the green. On it stood a pyre of branches and logs taken from the surrounding forest. Standing ominously in the center of the wood was a stake. The guards pulled her up the stairs, away from the grasping hands of the crowd, and moved aside the logs to create a path. One guard held her against the pole while the other tied her hands behind it. They then proceeded to loop ropes around her waist and ankles – there would be no escape. The crowd became more and more riled up as they watched the guards, screaming and cackling in glee. A voice rang out, audible even over the noise of the crowd, and everyone turned towards the castle. On a high balcony, the council stood watching. In the center of them stood Willow, holding Elora Danan in his arms. Raziel stood behind him, her hands on his shoulders. Maceforth had stepped forward, and now addressed the hysterical crowd. “In the name of the people of this realm, we have tried and found guilty this prisoner, Sorsha. She is a murderess and a coward, and committed unspeakable atrocities in the name of her mother, the evil queen Bavmorda. The council has ruled, justly and fairly, that she be put to death in the manner of all traitors before her – by fire.”

The crowd went crazy, shouts of “Murderess!” and “Burn her!” filling the air. Madmartigan raced up several steps to see over the crowd. “Maceforth, you bastard,” he shouted at the top of his lungs, “You’ll pay for this. You’re more of a criminal than Sorsha will ever be. You –“

“Madmartigan stop, please!” The crowd turned, shocked to hear Sorsha speak. “Madmartigan, nothing can be done now. It’s over.”

Maceforth was smiling malevolently. “Prisoner Sorsha, since you have chosen to speak, are there any last words you would like to say?”

Sorsha stared at him, holding his eyes with her own. “Long live Elora Danan, our new and rightful queen, and may the people watch over her closely to keep her from harm.”

Maceforth pursed his lips and looked away. “Guards! Light the pyre!”

The crowd, which had been silent as Sorsha spoke, began to cheer once more. A guard threw his torch into the wood, setting it alight. Madmartigan found himself screaming Sorsha’s name, but couldn’t even hear himself over the noise of the crowd. The flames encircled her, rising higher, nearly blocking her from view. Then, all at once, they went out. Every torch followed suit, leaving the crowd in complete darkness, with only the faint light of approaching dawn left to illuminate the scene.

A ball of light appeared over the crowd, slowly growing in size and brilliance until it shifted and settled into the shape of a child. The light faded to reveal a young girl, no more than eight years old, in a flowing white dress, with long red hair cascading down her back. A tiny crown rested atop her curls, and as she turned towards the council her eyes caught the attention of each and every person. They were wise and powerful, unearthly even, and unlike any child’s. She still sparkled with light, and when she saw the baby Willow carried she smiled. Instantly, he knew who she was. “Elora”, he whispered, and bowed.

The glowing girl laughed, a musical sound that nearly brought him to tears. The Councilmembers looked from him to the vision, confused. “Yes, Willow, I knew you’d recognize me. You, who know me better than any other.” She turned to address the crowd. “I am Elora Danan, the chosen one and your queen. I come to you in this form to say what I am unable to express in any other way. I come to defend one who protected me from harm, who works tirelessly to ensure my future and whom I trust more than any other. I come to save my mother, Sorsha.”

The crowd reacted with shock and disbelief. “Preposterous!” Maceforth cried, “Everyone knows that Elora Danan’s mother was killed in the dungeons of Nockmar castle.”

The vision of Elora turned, staring at him until he was forced to look away. “My birth mother was, indeed, killed mere hours after bearing me. But when I was born, surrounded by despair and death, I felt another there whom I knew would one day protect me. I felt the good in her long before it manifested itself. She was trapped in a cycle of violence, but she never accepted it, never truly wished to be a part of it. From that moment on I considered her my mother. I knew, even when she captured me, that she would be unable to hurt me herself. And when I was on the altar, moments from being sacrificed by Queen Bavmorda, I knew that she would rescue me. She is the reason for my survival. She is closer to me than my birth mother, may she rest in peace, could ever have been. I cannot allow you to harm her, though she herself would have sacrificed her life unflinchingly for the cause of peace in this realm. I need her. I need her to rule in my place until I am grown. She, Madmartigan, Raziel, and Willow are my guardians, and were even one of them to be removed my safety and the safety of this realm would be jeopardized. The Councilors are my advisors, and I am grateful to them for their aid. I ask that they help my guardians in safeguarding the realm. I ask that that they, and you, forgive past offences, for all of us have our own crimes. Rule well, rule fairly, and learn to forgive those who have changed their ways.”

The vision floated downwards, alighting on the platform, and reached a ghostly arm out towards Sorsha. As the two were about to touch, the vision disintegrated into a thousand tiny balls of light. One by one they gradually faded away, leaving them all in darkness once more.

The crowd stood, stunned. Madmartigan shook himself free of the shock and shouldered his way to the platform once more. Sorsha was still bound to the stake, but the wood around her had collapsed into embers. She appeared unharmed, but he wasn’t going to take chances. Drawing his dagger, he was about to cut through the ties that bound her when a harsh, desperate cry echoed across the green.

“Treachery!” Maceforth shouted, “Sorcery! Witchcraft! That vision was nothing more than an illusion!”

The crowd turned towards him once more, but this time there was no frenzied rallying at his words. They simply stared at him. His eyes bulged with rage as he leveled a shaking finger at Raziel. “There, there is your witch. She’d do anything to free the murderess, even impersonate our queen!”

The crowd gave no response, so Maceforth switched tactics. “Elora Danan is only a baby. There’s no way she would be able to, to create a ghost or shadow or whatever it was. It’s impossible!”

The crowd began to murmur, but their hostility was no longer directed at Sorsha.

“I tell you it’s a trick! No one could believe such fakery!”

The sound of hoof beats interrupted his rant. A young messenger, his horse dark with sweat, had ridden out of the forest and now dismounted, panting as he bowed towards the dais. To everyone’s surprise Silvergate stepped forward, eyes fixed on the messenger. “What news have you to report, messenger Kores?”

The young man stepped forward, gazing up at where the Council members stood. “My lord, at your request I took it upon myself to investigate the mysterious disappearance of my brother and fellow messenger Lekiel. He had been sent to find the Nelwyn Willow and bring him to aid the defense at Lady Sorsha’s trial. In addition, he was to find any and all who had known of Lady Sorsha’s bravery and ask them to come to her aid as well. My brother never made it past the edges of this forest. His body and that of his horse were found near the south stream, riddled with arrows.”

The crowd began to buzz angrily. It was unforgivable to kill an unarmed messenger. Maceforth looked flustered. “There must have been a mistake. Perhaps thieves in the forest, rogue remnants of Bavmorda’s army –“

“But why?” Silvergate said quietly, “Why would thieves kill Lekiel’s horse? Messenger horses are fast and unmatched when it comes to endurance. Anyone looking for a profit would sell the horse, any warrior would use it for himself.”

Maceforth’s eyes widened in panic. “You can’t be suggesting that I would – that anyone would set out to kill the messenger deliberately?”

Silvergate nodded gravely, but there was a hint of a vindictive gleam in his eye. “The evidence suggests such a thing. I’m afraid that, at this time, there is only one way to prove what is true and what is false. Council members?” He looked around at his fellow judges, who nodded at him one by one. Silvergate smiled. “Hagan Maceforth, by order of the Council you are under arrest, to stand trial as soon as possible.”

The crowd roared in approval. With one swift stroke, Madmartigan sliced through the ties that bound Sorsha and lifted her into his arms. The crowd dissolved into cheers and the pair was swept off the platform and into a sea of revelers. Messengers were already streaming out of the castle in every direction, letting the whole realm know of Elora Danan’s miraculous appearance. As the morning sun filled the sky with pink and gold light, the grim mood of the night before melted away, letting the rebirth of the kingdom commence.


	9. Epilogue

The next day, Elora Danan was crowned queen of the realm, with more pomp and ceremony than any queen before. The feasting afterwards lasted all night, and it took a long time before Willow had a chance to talk to Raziel. He finally pulled her aside and checked twice to make sure no one overheard. “That was amazing Raziel. Absolutely amazing. I never thought it was possible to pull off something that big.”

Raziel nodded enthusiastically. “I’ve never seen anything like it in all my years. Such detail, such finesse, such artistry - wherever did you learn it?”

Willow looked confused. “Learn what? I didn’t learn anything.”

Raziel shook her head impatiently. “The spell, silly. The spell that made the vision.”

Willow stared at her. “You created the vision, not me. I’d never be able to manage something like that.”

“I certainly did not create that vision! Visual magic is not my forte. I had planned on just projecting a voice, never an image.”

Willow shook his head. “Surely you must have just done it accidentally.”

Raziel stamped a foot impatiently. “It isn’t possible to do something that complicated accidently. It takes months of preparation, months I tell you! And even then, the results are never that good, that real...”

The pair turned to stare at the high dais where Sorsha sat, cradling Elora in her arms. “You don’t think…” Willow whispered, “It can’t possibly have been her, could it?”


End file.
